Leonard finally took the chance to voice his true thoughts about the matter.
He didn't want his team running around like headless flies, and this was also a kind of warning.
Perhaps everything they were doing had been arranged by someone behind the scenes.
After a moment of silence, Ilya tapped her right index finger lightly on the table twice. Once she had everyone's attention, she spoke, "That's a very reasonable guess, but it isn't the truth."
"??" Leonard looked confused. Could it be that the old man's judgment was wrong?
Or was this so-called Eye of the Goddess just a hollow title?
The other Red Gloves members also showed puzzled expressions.
Ilya took in their reactions but didn't explain further. "Continue investigating along the Viscount Staden line. We're not far from the answer."
If not for the other party's status, Leonard would have definitely asked more.
That afternoon, they continued investigating what Staden had experienced before his death, why he had invited Ince Zangwill into his home, and what reason Ince Zangwill had for killing the viscount.
Without sufficient cause, Ince Zangwill would not have killed a noble who had once helped him during his lowest point.
Halfway through the investigation, Leonard was shocked to find that Hastur's name also appeared among the people Staden had contacted before his death.
He frowned slightly, a bad feeling rising in his heart. This matter was probably connected to Hastur.
It was a kind of intuition. If he had to explain it, it would be that extraordinary people always do extraordinary things.
After compiling the list of contacts, Ms. Ilya assigned personnel to investigate each person on it.
Standing to the side in silence, Leonard silently prayed that the task of investigating Hastur wouldn't fall to him.
He didn't want to treat his first friend in Backlund like a suspect.
"Leonard, you know this Count Hastur Campbell, right?"
Ilya's question shattered Leonard's luck. He could only nod stiffly.
"Yes."
"Good. Then I'll leave it to you."
"…" Leonard sighed inwardly. His luck lately had been terrible.
The Red Gloves worked efficiently. By a little past ten that night, Leonard had already arrived at the gates of Hastur's castle.
"Sir, do you have an appointment with our lord?"
At the flowerbed near the castle entrance, a gardener holding large shears, who had been chatting with a coachman, blocked Leonard's way.
Although it was strange to see a gardener holding such large shears at night, Leonard still smiled politely. "I'm a friend of your lord from Backlund. Just inform him that Leonard is here to visit."
"Wait here." The one who spoke was the coachman beside him. He told the gardener to keep an eye on Leonard while he went inside to report.
Leonard kept a calm smile, but the gardener's gaze made him uneasy.
Especially the large shears in his hands, they looked like they were assembled from a pair of long human legs. The gardener stared at him like he was livestock waiting to be slaughtered.
Feeling uncomfortable under that stare, Leonard tried to start a conversation. "What time does your lord usually rest at night?"
"That is the lord's freedom. We have no right to interfere."
Leonard changed the subject. "The flowers here are growing beautifully. Your skill is impressive, even in Backlund, it would be hard to find a gardener comparable to you."
The gardener's expression softened slightly. "Trimming flowers is far easier than trimming people. I like this job very much."
"…" Leonard felt the conversation was going nowhere and stopped talking.
About five minutes later, Hastur personally came out of the castle to welcome his friend from Backlund.
Leonard straightened slightly and glanced at the gardener, noticing he was looking at Hastur with almost fanatical eyes.
'What's going on?' Leonard paused, but didn't overthink it. He quickly stepped forward to greet Hastur.
"Welcome, my friend."
"I'm glad to be here as well."
"Let's talk inside."
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Hastur led Leonard into the castle.
The moonlight past ten was cold, especially in the outskirts of a remote town where the wind felt even chillier.
As soon as he stepped inside, Leonard couldn't help but shiver.
In the first-floor sitting room, Hastur invited Leonard to sit and had a maid bring out the finest tea to entertain his clearly task-driven friend.
Based on his understanding of Leonard, there was only one reason for such a late-night visit, a Red Gloves' mission.
It was obvious they had grown suspicious of Ince Zangwill's death and had followed the trail to him, sending Leonard under the pretense of a friendly visit to investigate.
They chatted about recent events in Backlund. Leonard even deliberately brought up Ince Zangwill's death, but couldn't glean anything useful from Hastur's expression.
Hastur didn't pursue the topic, nor did he ask about Leonard's purpose. He simply made small talk and hosted a banquet.
This left Leonard swallowing his words several times, and in the end, he felt too embarrassed to directly state his purpose under such warm hospitality.
"Time flies, it's almost midnight. You've traveled a long way, so you should get some rest. We can talk about other matters tomorrow."
Hastur glanced at the clock on the wall, ending the evening.
Leonard agreed. It was too late to discuss serious matters anyway, and he could use the time to go through his thoughts.
Led by a young and beautiful maid, he passed through a corridor lined with over a dozen famous paintings, then went upstairs from a corner staircase, finally arriving at his room.
It was his first time seeing a house with three separate staircases connecting the first and second floors.
Lying on the soft, fragrant bed, Leonard almost fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.
After days of travel, he hadn't had a proper night's rest.
He forced himself to stay awake and called out to the old man in his mind, wanting to hear his opinion.
But no matter how he called, the old man refused to respond tonight, not even a single word.
Is he deliberately trying to see me embarrass myself in front of Hastur?
After thinking it over, Leonard felt this was the most likely explanation.
He forced himself to think a bit more, but couldn't resist the drowsiness and soon fell into a deep sleep.
In the middle of the night, Leonard was awakened by the rumbling of his stomach.
Rubbing his abdomen, he muttered, "You really can't handle good food. I only ate a bit more tonight and you couldn't take it. Useless."
With no choice, he got up and headed to the washroom.
It was the third room to the right of his own, as the maid had explained earlier.
Half an hour later, Leonard came out refreshed. He had even washed his face, and now felt completely awake.
Looking at the brightly lit corridor, he couldn't help but sigh, noble life was truly extravagant. Just the cost of lighting for one night could probably support a family of three for a week.
Should I take this chance to investigate the castle?
The thought suddenly appeared in his mind. Seeing no one around, he cautiously walked forward.
Soon, he noticed light coming from one of the rooms, along with the faint sound of a pen writing on paper.
He had planned to return to his room, but subconsciously walked toward that door instead.
Before he reached it, the scratching sound stopped.
Moments later, the door creaked open. An elderly woman, about sixty years old, smiled. "Still awake so late, guest? Is it because you're not used to sleeping here? Or do you need anything? If so, feel free to tell me."
Leonard quickly explained that he had gotten up due to stomach trouble.
After chatting briefly, he learned her name was Madam Lisa. She was staying up late writing a book, likely hoping to leave something behind in her limited remaining years.
Accepting her invitation, Leonard sat in her room for a while. The feather quill on the desk, still dipped in ink, was not 008.
This made him relax considerably. He didn't stay long, feeling it would be inappropriate to disturb an elderly woman late at night.
After this small interlude, Leonard returned to his room and went back to sleep.
The next day, he woke up on the comfortable bed a little past nine.
Glancing at the clock beside the bed, 9:46.
He jolted awake, quickly got dressed, and opened the door.
Outside, a young and lovely maid was already waiting, a gentle smile on her face.